


Shadow Puppets

by Penkindisbestspecibus



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Constructed Reality, Existential Angst, Gen, Statement Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23749324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penkindisbestspecibus/pseuds/Penkindisbestspecibus
Summary: Statement of Jonathan Noakes, regarding the false nature of reality and our existence.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Shadow Puppets

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on Tumblr mentioned something about a what-if of a statement from someone who can break the Fourth Wall and the idea stuck with me
> 
> so I farted this out before it left.

_Statement of Jonathan Noakes, regarding the false nature of reality and our existence. Statement originally taken: 19th of November, 1994. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London._

_Statement begins_.

* * *

Have you heard of Plato's Cave? I imagine you must have, being in academia and all. It's not exactly a particularly obscure bit of philosophy is it? A bunch of prisoners are chained to a wall, unable to move. The only thing they can see is a blank wall, and the shadows of things imprinted on it. The shadows are their reality - if they were to break their chains and leave the cave, they would find it all very bewildering, wouldn't they? How could they know what the sun is, when their reality until then had been the shadows it cast?

It's an okay allegory, I think, because really, the Matrix did it better. That's not a reference you'll get, I suppose - not you, the person reading this statement, but _you_ , the person reading this story.

I'm sorry. I'm being confusing. I should start at the beginning. Well, technically, I already have - it begins with Plato's Cave, you understand, and the prisoners chained to the wall, but that's not a beginning that's easy to follow. I think that's the nature of these things, that they're hard to follow, hard to understand. That's my nature as well, I suppose.

My name, as you have already read, is Jonathan Noakes. What you might not already know is that Jonathan Noakes is not real. The name itself is not really a name. I mean, yes, there are people out there named Jonathan Noakes, but I am not really named Jonathan Noakes anymore than an apple is really named an apple. I am _a_ Jonathan Noakes, but it's not really my name.

I'm sorry. I'm being confusing again, but as was written earlier, that is the nature of these things. This thing, in particular, I suppose.

Back to my name. Jonathan Noakes is a reference to John-a-Noke. Or John-a-Noakes, depending on variation. It's an old, archaic legal term used to refer to the party in legal proceedings when their true name is not known for whatever reason. Might as well have called me 'Outis', but I suppose both references are equally oblique.

Let's rewind again, now that we have a bit more knowledge and understanding, and get back to the hypothetical 'meat' of the matter. Plato's Cave. Prisoners and Shadows.

The reason I bring it up - well, the reason it was brought up to begin with - is to help you understand what I'm trying to say when I say nothing is real. I mean it is not real in the way that the shadows on the wall of our cave are not real, and that what I previously thought was reality was much the same pantomime show, actors on a stage. Just one great big story.

I'm not solipsistic. I know what it sounds like - I believe nothing is real, therefore I am a self-deluded narcissist convinced of his own self importance. The problem is that I don't think _I'm_ real either. I'm… I'm pretty sure I'm the shadow on the wall in this allegory, being made to dance by an unseen sun.

Do you know I don't remember my mother? Well, 'remember' is the wrong word. She never existed, much in the same way I do not exist in any way that matters. I couldn't tell you her name, the colour of her hair, or her eyes, nor could I tell you my own. It's a strange thing to realise you don't actually exist, you understand. To one day look in a mirror and realise that there's nothing looking back - that there is no mirror at all. It was terrifying at first, to realise that you are literally not a real thing, wondering if you're going to just disappear, like a dreamer waking from a sleep.

Like a bubble being popped.

I did not in fact, disappear, but sometimes I wish I did. It would be easier, I think, to go back to dreaming, but that's not how this works. I have to complete the dance - the pantomime. I have to reach the end of the story, but I don't know what that is.

I know what you're thinking. If nothing is real, if I have no reflection and there is no mirror to check to begin with, how do I know these things? What is the purpose of this statement? And how am I writing one at all?

Well, the answers to those questions are: I don't know, I don't know, and I'm not. I'm not the one writing at all, you understand - you were told I'm a shadow on the wall, and I'm dancing to the tune of an unseen sun.

I think that if there were a purpose at all, the dancing would be for the sake of the prisoners, who are forced to watch and see our pantomime reality. I wonder if that means you. 

I know that that means _you_.

But perhaps, if you turn your gaze away, the cave will be dark again and I will stop.

I'd quite like to stop dancing, if that's alright with you now.

* * *

_Statement ends. Well. If I didn't know any better, I would've assumed this was someone's attempt at an existentialist monologue, but I_ do _know better. What I don't understand is the... fears at play._

_If Mister Noakes really is just a... figment of imagination, some created actor who doesn't truly exist, then it stands to reason he - or it, I suppose - existed for a reason. If it was born from one of the Powers, then it must try to feed it in someway, but as far as I can tell Mister Noakes exists only as this statement. The address listed with the statement does not exist, and the contact number given has never been in service. The statement itself seems to deal entirely with Mister Noakes realising that he is not real and has never been._

_What then, is the purpose of Mister Noakes? What entity does he feed? The... unreality suggests the Spiral or the Stranger might be at play, but I can't fathom the goal. Perhaps there is no goal. Perhaps Mister Noakes is just an... an errant twitch, some spasming muscle that belongs to a greater whole he can't perceive._


End file.
